


this side of mortality

by actualflower



Series: fireteam: condor [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: And His Shitlord Father Oryx, Crota is A Dick And I Will Punch Him, Dealing With Failure, Gen, Music As An Important Plot Device, My First Work in This Fandom, Team Work Makes The Dream Work, With My Weak Warlock Noodle Arms, but like. theyre side characters so i ain't taggin em, general ambiguous lesbianry, namely the Vanguard Commanders, smatterings of the rest of ye olde cast and crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 17:51:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9669608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualflower/pseuds/actualflower
Summary: Examoris-83 is a Warlock. She is capable, strong, driven, passed through fire and come out the other side. Sometimes, that is not enough.Bera Syvalnus is a Hunter. She is excitable, flashy, clever, faster with a pistol than anyone Examoris has ever seen. Sometimes, all you need is a little help.





	

**Author's Note:**

> one: i like music  
> two: i like being dramatic  
> three: canon is my plaything

“Examoris, you’re bleeding-!”

“I know, Ghost.”

“We need to go back; we’re too far in the Darkness, I can’t heal you properly, I don’t know if I’ll be able to bring you back properly if you fall-”

“We can’t, Ghost. Not now. We’ve gotten-”

There’s a wince then, a hand flying up to the single gash in her otherwise pristine robes. Thick, oily blue fluid bleeds sluggishly from a gash in burnished metal - she’s died once already, and her Ghost did its best bringing her back, but. There is only so far the Light can reach. She pulls her helmet off for a moment, breathes in stale air that makes her taste receptors ping back a thousand disgusting little particulates, but it feels better than breathing in nothing at all.

“We’ve gotten so far, Ghost. We can’t - we can’t turn back.” She pulls her helmet back over her head, metal over metal over metal. So many layers, but not enough. It’s never enough.

“Examoris-”

“Crota dies here, Ghost.”

Her Ghost does its best to frown, which means it does its best to project a dissatisfied air and not look Examoris in the eye. “Fine.”

She pulls her sniper rifle from her back, sighting down the solar weapon at the four knights praying toward the crystal in the center of the room.

“Mark.”

“Sync.”

She takes a steadying breath, two.

“Ghost?” She whispers, quiet as a moth’s wings.

“Yes?”

“Play me something.”

“...Alright, Guardian.”

Guitar begins to play in her helmet, and she recognizes the opening to _Soldier On_. She smiles behind her helmet and fires.

 

* * *

 

Ikora Rey sends a fireteam to investigate the site of the Temple after 72 hours of no contact. The fireteam comes up empty after 18 hours of patrol. She recalls the fireteam.

 

* * *

 

A week passes. Banshee-44 stops waiting for a familiar face to ask for help with a weapon, and consigns himself to forgetting one more face.

 

* * *

 

 

Another week passes. Master Rahool finds himself scanning every Exo Guardian that comes to him for that signature burnished-orange finished. None of them match his memory.

 

* * *

 

In the middle of the third week, a familiar ship limps into port. A frantic, harried Ghost darts out of the ship’s bay as soon as the gate lowers, zipping as fast as it can to the Hall of the Guardians. It doesn’t stop until it floats in front of the three Vanguards, the tin points of its star-like body whirring with frantic energy.

“We need a medical team at loading bay three, please!”

Ikora Rey’s eyes widen, and she nods, firm and unflappable as ever. Cayde-6 is already darting off, likely ensuring whoever is sent is familiar with Exo physiology.

Commander Zavala does not smile, but his eyes glimmer with satisfaction. “Seems our Guardian has come home after all, hm?”

 

* * *

 

The third day of her return, Examoris-83 checks herself out of the medical bay.

The medical technicians urge her to stay, finish her healing. Her body is fully repaired. She sees no need.

When she steps into the Hall of the Vanguard for the first time in a month, Ikora Rey’s brow furrows with concern. Before she can speak, Examoris intones: “I did not complete my mission. Requesting permission to return to the field.”

Ikora’s response is immediate and deadly. “No.”

Examoris only has time to open her jaw before Ikora raises a finger to silence her. “I will not see you lose yourself to this hunt, Guardian. You are on mandatory leave for the next month. If you set a single foot outside of the City walls, I will know about it.”

Ikora’s tone softens. “From what we’ve gleaned, the Hive have all but ceased their activity on the Moon. Whatever you did slowed them down enough that we can take a moment to breathe, Warlock.”

Examoris looks at her feet before muttering a “yes, ma’am” and exiting the room with what’s left of her dignity.

 

* * *

 

On the first day, Examoris paces the halls of the Tower like a woman possessed, following all her usual paths and trails; an hour with the Speaker, two with Rahool, another in the shipyards trying to learn how to service her Sparrow herself. She steadfastly avoids the Hall of the Guardians. She has no need, if she has no mission.

She exhausts all her avenues of entertainment by early afternoon.

She spends the last half of the day watching the sunset from the courtyard behind the main thoroughfare of the Tower, the monocular in her hand a poor substitute for her rifle’s scope.

 

* * *

 

Examoris spends the second day in the Archives, reading and reading and reading. She spies Rahool once and gives him a wave. He looks perplexed to see her there - she’s never spent more than a day at the Tower, maybe two, before setting off towards her next Guardian assignment.

Before he can catch her eye again, she’s back to reading.

When Master Rahool passes by her again, it’s almost dark outside. Examoris has slumped over the table, book splayed open underneath her. She’s powered down. Rahool _tsks_ and grabs one of the blankets he keeps tucked away in the Archives for just such an occassion.

 

* * *

 

She meets the Hunter on the third day during a visit to Banshee - there were a few interesting things decrypted by Master Rahool from the engrams she’d had in her vault, waiting until she had time to decrypt them, and Examoris wanted help in learning how to use the strange fusion rifle she’d found. She’s used to visiting Banshee with nary another soul around; with an unfamiliar person there, she feels too uncomfortable to visit the gunsmith.

Before she can make her hasty retreat, however, the Awoken catches her eye and smiles. “Hello, Exo!”

Examoris freezes before she can fully turn. _Does she mean-_

“Yeah, you! C’mon over here! Don’t be shy!” A wide smile gleams on the Hunter’s face. Banshee sighs as if it is a common occurrence.

Examoris carefully picks her way from the stairs to the gunsmith’s booth. The Awoken carries her helmet on her hip, a hand cannon lazily gripped in the other hand.

“Haven’t seen you around much, have I, Warlock?” She hooks the helmet onto her belt more firmly and extends a hand to Examoris. She only just now notices the cloak curling around the Awoken’s shoulders. “Name’s Bera.”

Examoris takes the hand in her own, leaving the other gripping the fusion rifle. “Examoris-83, Voidcaller Warlock. You must be a Hunter.”

“Keen eye. Was it the cloak that gave me away, or the cocky, devil-may-care attitude?” Bera winks. Examoris finds herself intrigued.

Banshee decides that now is the perfect time to interject. “That pistol gives you any more trouble, you bring it to me, you hear? And make sure you’ve got a backup on you. Just in case.”

“Never can have too many guns, right, Banshee?” Her voice is like laughter. She slides the hand cannon onto a holster on her back, and gives the Exo a polite nod. She does the same to Examoris, adding a lazy two-finger salute. “I better be on my way, or Cayde’s gonna kick my ass. Says he’s got a mission for me that’ll _really_ knock my socks off. Probably another dive into the Cosmodrome, but hey. What can you do, huh?”

She wanders off toward the Hall of the Guardians, and Examoris finds herself staring after her longer than politeness would dictate. Banshee clears his throat once, twice, and Examoris finally turns to his table, laying the fusion rifle at his hands.

“She’s a good Hunter. Good shot,” he says, apropos of nothing. For the past three minutes he’d been teaching Examoris everything he knew about that particular model of fusion rifle, his tone gruff and erudite - with this, his tone is strange, softer, as if he’s whispering but has forgotten how (and maybe he has). “Takes care of her guns. Not so much herself. Could use someone to look after her.”

Examoris blinks. “I will keep that in mind, Banshee.”

“Always good to have backup,” he says, tone distant, and hands Examoris the fusion rifle.

 

* * *

 

Examoris finally finds a rhythm in the Tower: spend the first hour of her day reading news reports from her data feed, the next two in comfortable conversation (or comfortable silence) with the Speaker, two or three in the Archives after that, then to the shipyard to work on her Sparrow. She is not particularly fond of mechanical work, but it is an important skill to have, and it replaces the monotony of nothingness with the monotony of mechanics. _A decent enough trade off_ , she thinks, and returns her hands to the innards of her Sparrow.

She’s halfway through a thought about what her insides must look like compared to the Sparrow’s when a boot knocks against hers. Examoris slides out from underneath it and finds herself staring into a familiar Awoken’s eyes.

“Fancy meeting you here!” Her tone suggests that it was in no way an accident. “Hey, you think you can spare a few minutes for your ol’ pal Bera? Got a proposition you might like to hear!”

Examoris takes a second to weigh her options, and eventually decides that time spent with the excitable Awoken might benefit her after all her time practically alone in the Tower. “Alright.”

Bera grins, wider than she was before, and a grim sensation settles in the back of Examoris’ head.

It must show on her face, because the next words out of Bera’s mouth are “Don’t look so sad, jelly bean. It’s not like I plan on dragging you out to get you _killed_ or anything. Well, probably not.”

_Not an inspiring thought_ , she thinks. Her Ghost materializes over her left shoulder, his favorite spot to be, and decides to introduce himself, too. “Oh thank goodness. I thought she was going to be cooped up in her room in the Tower all day long, what with her obsession with the Archives. All she does is read, read, read, ever since she got-”

Examoris gently shoves the little Ghost down, making him pause and sputter. “My apologies. He is very excitable.”

“Nice to know I’m not the only one with a nagging Ghost,” Bera says, and a Ghost with a pale blue shell, soft as a winter sky, appears in her upturned palm.

“We’re on the Tower, what could you have broken this ti- Oh. Hello, Warlock. I suppose you must be the one she wants to join a Fireteam with, hm?”

Bera instantly grabs at him, but he flutters away from her palm and towards the Ghost Examoris is currently patting with her hand. They stare at each other for a moment, looking for all the world like strange birds slowly scanning one another, before they both flutter happily.

Examoris’ Ghost, with his striking red shell and golden stripes, trills. “I like her. We’re partnering up _immediately._ ”

“Likewise,” says Bera’s Ghost, and Bera laughs.

“I suppose there goes all the mystery, huh?” Bera holds out a hand. “I’ve read your records. You took on Crota’s soul alone - didn’t quite finish the job, but the fact that you got out alive says a hell of a lot to me.” The Hunter grins. “Think you could go back into the pits? I think we might just make the perfect team.”

Examoris thinks. Cocks her head to the side. Sighs, once, before speaking. “I have two weeks until Ikora will let me back onto the field, and that is _if_ she will allow me to take on the Crota mission once more. I know they haven’t sent another Guardian into the Hellmouth - they are not going to force someone onto the mission, and the only person willing to take it on in the first place was myself.” Examoris takes Bera’s hand in her own, shaking it firmly. “You get me back onto the moon, and you’ve got a partner.”

Bera’s answering laugh echoes in the noise and space of the shipyard. “You’re really some kind of crazy, huh? I knew I pegged you right when I met you.”

 

* * *

 

The next day, Examoris is called to the Hall of the Guardians for the first time in two weeks.

“You’re being cleared for field duty, Warlock,” Ikora says. “On the recommendation of one of your peers, along with both of the other Vanguard commanders.” Standing off to the side, next to Cayde-6, is Bera, outfitted in full Hunter regalia. She wiggles the fingers of one gloved hand in greeting, and Examoris can imagine the smile under her mask with startling clarity.

When Ikora tells her that she’s going back to the Moon, Examoris doesn’t gasp. Instead, she casts a glance at Bera, who only gives her a thumbs-up in response.

“This is, of course, on the condition that you take at least one other Guardian with you.” Ikora’s smile fades from her face. “We do not want to lose a single Guardian. If we did not have to send you into that pit again, we would not - but you would find a way in regardless, I feel. Who will you be taking with you?” she asks, as if she does not already know the answer.

“Hunter Bera Syvalnus,” she says with absolute surety, and Bera does a little dance off to the side. When Cayde coughs, she immediately straightens and snaps to a hasty salute.

“An honor, ma’am!” she says, and Examoris sighs.

(The smile on her face gives her away, though.)

 

* * *

 

“Examoris, you’re _bleeding_.”

“I know, Bera.”

“And here everyone thought you’d be taking care of me,” Bera says, voice filled with forced levity. Examoris’ free hand is pressed to her side, her sniper rifle slung over her shoulder in favor of her sidearm. “We need to go back. You’re in no shape to fight.”

“She’s right,” intones her Ghost, and Examoris pats him back down.

The Exo shakes her head and tells her Ghost to transmat the sidearm back into its little inventory space before pulling her sniper from her shoulder with a slight wince. “I refuse to leave this place without Crota’s soul dead.”

Bera looks at her, helmet still firmly in place, and shakes her head. “A special kind of crazy. I sure know how to fuckin’ pick ‘em, huh?” She presses a hand on Examoris’ shoulder until she gets the hint and sits down for a second. Her Ghost appears in its blue shell and a roll of duct tape is materialized in Bera’s palm when she holds it out. She tapes the wound on Examoris’ side closed, sighing when she’s done.

“No medical tape?” Examoris jokes, and Bera shakes her head with a laugh.

“You’re a damn robot. Be glad I don’t break out the oil.” She holds the smile for a second, then lets it fade. “We give this one more shot, and if it doesn’t work, we pull out and go home. Even I know when something’s a suicide mission.”

Examoris looks ready to fight, but with a sharp nudge from her Ghost, she acquiesces. “One more shot.”

“Alright.” Bera holds out her hand, and Examoris takes it. They both creep back to the entrance to the final room, the four Knights bowed in obeisance to the crystal, the four Wizards locked in some dark ritual.

“You take the right, I’ll take the left,” Examoris whispers over their coms, already sighted in on the Knight closest to her.

“Wizards one by one after,” Bera responds, and Examoris nods. Her Ghost materializes over her shoulder, red shell bright in the dim light.

“Mark.”

“Sync.”

“...Ghost, play me something-”

“Mm, no, I got it this time,” interrupts Bera, and Examoris hears the beginning of _Close Your Eyes (And Count to Fuck)_ begin to play in her helmet.

Examoris finds herself smiling as her and Bera take the first shot in time with the music.

 

* * *

 

Five hours later, a call comes in over the comms to the Tower from the Moon.

The signal is weak and staticky, but Cayde-6 is already fiddling with the receiver, trying to get a better reception when-

“Is that _music_?” Ikora says, just as Zavala says “Is that Run the Jewels?”

Cayde-6, Eris Morn, and Ikora all cast Zavala a look before he shrugs. “Pre-Golden Age music is an interest of mine - shouldn’t we be worried about whatever Guardian is broadcasting?”

“ _No need, Commander - we’re just fine. Peachy keen, even._ ” There’s a slight pause, and then: “ _Well, Examoris might be missing an eye, but we’re alive! That’s important!_ ”

Cayde laughs, and the concern on Ikora’s face lessens, though it does not disappear completely. “Fireteam, report. What's the mission status?”

“ _Objective complete, Commander. Requesting permission to return._ ” Examoris sounds exhausted, but pleased. Ikora smiles.

“Permission granted, Warlock. A med team will be on standby for your arrival.”

“Good job, Guardians. Get home swift and safe,” Zavala says before cutting the connection.

“...Well. I’m gonna go make sure that med team is Exo-equipped.” Cayde-6 mutters, breaking the tension that’s settled over the room. He ducks out before anyone can tell him otherwise.

Eris Morn smiles. “The whispers are quieter, now. Your Guardians have done well.”

“I think Cayde might have a soft spot for your Warlock, Ikora,” Zavala chuckles.

“I think I have two Guardians to congratulate when they return,” Ikora responds, and turns the comms back on. “Until then, there are other Guardians to ensure come home safe.” Her hand curls around a mug of coffee on the table, and she busies herself listening in.

Zavala laughs. He pushes up from the table, grabbing his empty mug on the way, and walks out of the Hall for a refill, patting Ikora’s shoulder when he passes her.

 

* * *

 

Ten hours later, two ships pull into the loading bay bearing two weary, battered Guardians.

“I’m never going back down into that Hive hellpit again,” Bera mutters, her Ghost nodding its assent in little bobs of its floating body. She pulls off her helmet as she walks out of her ship, running a gauntleted hand through sweaty hair.

The other ship is boarded by a team of medics as soon as the loading bay is opened by a little red-shelled Ghost. Carried out on a stretcher, unconscious from fluid loss and pain, is Examoris.

Bera frowns as they carry her off, jogging to keep up.

 

* * *

 

Examoris wakes three days later, after intensive surgery to repair her broken eye - since she is an Exo, the complications this might’ve cause on an organic species were not present. The anesthesia is just a preventative measure to ensure she doesn’t leave the medical bay before all her internal injuries have healed.

For an Exo, waking is not a slow process - one moment, there is nothing; the next -

Examoris-83 opens her eyes to the bright, white, clinical light of the medical bay, and there is someone softly singing to her immediate right.

“ _Heaven herself, the tender warrior_

_I believe she sent for us when she_

_Saw that we were trying our best._ ”

Before Examoris can close her eyes again, the voice stops and a smile enters her field of view. “G’mornin’, sunshine. You had a nice nap after we smashed Crota’s soul-shard to bits. How’s the new eye lookin’?”

Examoris blinks once, twice. “It functions optimally. Is there any surface damage?”

“’It functions optimally.’ You know, Examoris, this is why I like you. I feel like I’m gonna get smarter just by being around you.” She waves a hand in the air. “And yeah, some scarring around the eye. Makes you look like a proper badass instead of a bookworm.”

Examoris frowns. She’ll have to look into getting something done about it-

Her train of thought is interrupted by a hand mirror being shoved in her face. In the light of the infirmary, her glossy metal shines like burnished orange just this side of gold - and she can see where the scarring splatters around her right eye, making it look like she’d endured a turpentine spill rather than a blast to the face from a too-close wizard.

“See? What’d I say? Proper _badass_. I think it’s a great look for you, personally. Gives you that air of ‘I’ve-seen-some-shit-so-don’t-question-me’ that I think you could benefit from.”

_Perhaps I won’t need to see anyone about it_ , she thinks, and smiles.

 

* * *

 

Three days after that, Examoris checks herself out of the medical bay, much to the consternation of the doctors there. Bera’s waiting for her in the courtyard that overlooks the mountains to the north of the Tower and the City, watching the stone giants at rest in the sunset.

“So,” Bera starts as Examoris sits next to her. “How about it, partner? What say we start up a proper fireteam, just you and me, surfin’ the stars, fighting back the darkness.”

Examoris thinks for a moment, Warlock skirts pooled around her as her feet dangle off the edge of the railing. “We should think about finding a Titan third,” she says, finally.

Bera’s answering smile is bright as the sun.

**Author's Note:**

> this is loosely based on my own experience with the last mission in crota's quest line before the raid - no matter how hard I tried, i couldn't beat it on my own. i had to get my friend, tao, to help me out. thus, this was born.
> 
> anyway. thanks for stickin around till the end, folks. if you liked it, maybe leave a comment? i'd love some feedback! also terminology. terminology is still strange and new so if I called something by the wrong name i'd love a nudge in the right direction.
> 
> also u tell me where that mark/sync reference is from and ill give u a cookie. maybe even two.
> 
> songs mentioned in order:  
> Soldier On by The Temper Trap  
> Close Your Eyes (And Count To Fuck) by Run The Jewels ft. Zach de la Rocha  
> Heaven Bent by Lady Lamb
> 
> talk to me about warlocks and found families at [banshee-44](http://banshee-44.tumblr.com/) or [kaytewrites](http://kaytewrites.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


End file.
